A Friend in Deed
by REIDFANATIC
Summary: Oneshot: Reid reflects on Rossi's actions on a case


"Damn knee," Reid said to himself as he screwed the lid off of a bottle of Tylenol and poured a couple of tablets into his hand. He popped them in his mouth and took a swig from a bottle of water on the hotel nightstand and then screwed the lid back on the bottle. Damn Rossi was more to the point, Reid thought as he elevated his knee on the bed and waited for the analgesic to take affect. It hurt like hell tonight. The doctor had told him to be careful in the field. The muscle tissue of his leg had healed but the painful ligament and tendon damage was more vulnerable to reinjury. He'd told Rossi that his doctor had advised against him doing that kind of thing but he guessed Rossi's new boots were more important than his knee.

The thought surprised him somewhat because he'd come to feel that Rossi cared. At least he had seemed to when they'd been in Las Vegas looking into the Riley Jenkins murder. He remembered waking up from the hypnosis and Rossi being right there beside him, a reassuring and familiar face when he'd needed it most.

His mind flicked back over the time he'd known Rossi and various clips, like those on a movie screen, ran through his mind. He smirked when he recalled Rossi's reply to Detective Linden in Sarasota. Over the years he'd tried not to show emotion when people asked thoughtless questions and made insensitive remarks. It was better that way; so Rossi's sarcastic, "He was left in a basket on the steps of the FBI," had made him feel good inside.

The pain in his knee was dissipating to some extent. He could bend it more easily now, he thought as he began to do some of the exercises the physiotherapist had prescribed for him.

"What do you need to crack it," Rossi's voice reverberated in his mind as he put his knee through the paces and recollected their case in Lower Canaan and his response that he'd need the ability to clone himself and a year's supply of Adderall; and Rossi's retort, "I'll put on the coffee."

"Good work Agent Reid," Rossi had said in Atlantic City. It had sounded so strange to his ears that it had taken him a moment to respond. No one ever called him agent, probably due to Gideon's constant insistence that he be called doctor. So why if he'd seemed so supportive in those instances had he…?

A picture abruptly flashed into his mind. He was a little boy. The day was hot he remembered but a soft breeze feathered across his face and blew his hair back as he peddled his bike for the first time after his dad, under his watchful eye, had removed the training wheels. His father had held on to the back as he'd pleaded, "Don't let go yet Daddy." William Reid had hung on for a few more feet and then his hand had gently lifted from the back of the bicycle and suddenly, he, Spencer Reid, was free, peddling on his own. He hadn't thought of that in years; why would it come back to him now?

He continued with his exercises as he thought about Rossi and the ditch. He had no doubt that Gideon, if he'd still been here, or anyone else on the team for that matter, would have gone into the ditch in his place to spare him the pain he was feeling right now, or they would have, at least, helped him up once he was down there instead of walking away like Rossi had, claiming there was a first time for everything. He'd blamed it on his new Italian leather boots but, let's face it, Reid told himself, Rossi could afford a hundred pairs of those boots. It had taken him a while to get out of the ditch and with sweat trickling down his face and into his eyes he returned to the car to find Rossi waiting patiently for him with his arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on his face.

Something made him look up around his hotel room. No windows were open but he could swear he felt a soft breeze on his cheeks like he'd felt when his dad had let go of his bike and he was riding freely on his own. A smile, like the one he'd seen on his partner's face, crossed his lips. "Thanks Rossi," Reid said as he turned out the light, laid down and gave himself up to the sandman.


End file.
